The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2017 - Fire & Ice (1983), directed by Ralph Bakshi

The Trailer
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The Appropriate Tune: "Fire And Ice", by Pat Benatar

     For the last couple entries on the list this year I’ve decided to revisit some old favorites, directors who I’ve heaped praise on before on this blog, whether on the Marathon or otherwise. Of that group of legends, because a name drop by King Thunderbird is such an honor, it seems appropriate that we should start with Ralph Bakshi, one of the biggest names in American animation and one of its most ardent supporters. After all, my review of his 1975 film Coonskin is far and away the most popular review on this blog (hopefully because it’s well-written and insightful and not because racists needed something to beat off to) and ever since that post 4(!) years ago I haven’t touched another Bakshi film. Not because I don’t like me some Bak’, in fact I watched through his influential reboot of Mighty Mouse during the interim, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles sometimes. I needed that time to wallow in self-pity and watch Star Trek, it’s a huge commitment.

     Fire & Ice sees Bakshi taking on much more traditional fare than the underground comix, surrealistic semi-autobiographies and blaxploitation reimaginings of old folk tales: sword ‘n’ scorcery type fantasy. Teaming up with legendary sci-fi and fantasy artist Frank Franzetta, with a screenplay by comic A-listers Gerry Conway and Roy Thomas, Bakshi and his team of animators present to us a world trapped between two extremes of temperature, civilization and morality. On are side are the humans, in their tropical home of jungles and swamps, ruled by King Jarol in Fire Keep. On the other is the evil sorceror Nekron and his equally evil mother Juliana, who rule over a bestial race of subhumans in the frozen land of Ice Peak. The two peoples have been engaged in a long and brutal war, a war which the Ice side has been slowly winning, thanks to Nekron’s magic. Not content with an inevitable victory however, Nekron and Juliana kidnap Jarol’s daughter Teegra in order to force an unconditional surrender. Teegra manages to escape her kidnappers however, and while starving in the woods due to having no survival skills meets up with Larn, a survivor of one of Nekron’s massacres. As the protagonists of the story, it’s up to them to figure out some way to defeat Nekron and once more restore peace to the land.

     Although mostly they’re just going to give us up-close views of their groins.

     I guess the most surprising thing about Fire & Ice is how god damn dull it is. You’d think that a script by Roy Thomas, a guy who not only wrote over 100 issues of Marvel’s Conan the Barbarian series but his own 50 issue fantasy comic (Arak, Son of Thunder) would be able to craft a heart-racing tale of high adventure, but in 90 minutes it feels like nothing happens and our protagonists accomplish nothing of value. Larn and Teegra run a lot, a couple subhumans get stabbed, Teegra gets kidnapped, in fact Teegra gets kidnapped so often in this movie it goes beyond the outdated ‘damsel in distress’ narrative and into outrageous stupidity, rinse and repeat right up until the end. Hell, Larn, our protagonist and the guy who is featured in about 90% percent of the movie, DOES NOT KILL NEKRON AT THE END OF THE MOVIE (30+ year old spoilers). No, that honor goes to a side-character who has maybe 10 lines and isn’t actually mentioned by name throughout the entirety of the movie. Why? Who thought it would be a good idea to take a movie about sword-fighting wizards in a fantasy setting and make the main characters, in fact make every character beside Nekron and Blackwolf (that side character I mentioned) consistently incompetent? If Roy Thomas had tried to write Conan that way, I bet Marvel would have kicked his ass out onto the street after two issues. This seems to be a recurring theme with Bakshi films, but animation is not a substitute for an actual story.

     Also, watching Fire & Ice now, there seems to be some very, very, unfortunate implications. The humans of Fire Keep, who we are told are good and noble, are white, while the spear-wielding, animalistic brutes of Ice Peak, who are explicitly labeled as ‘subhumans’, are all darker complexions (and ruled by Juliana and Nekron, both white). The few non-white characters we see on the human side are 1) a scantily clad servant girl to Teegra, 2) A crude boat captain who appears for about three seconds, 3) An evil red-headed witch who dies almost immediately and 4) Blackwolf, who basically exists to keep the protagonists from having to actually work for anything. Larn even has blond hair and blue eyes for fuck’s sake! I know this was the early 80s, and fantasy has always had issues with these kinds of things, but it’s hard to believe that folks were that tone-deaf. Of course Bakshi is the man behind Coonskin, so maybe this is him being more understanding.

     The art is fantastic, as expected of Frank Frazetta, although the sheer amount of cheesecake packed in here does test the patience quite a bit. Not that I don’t mind looking at attractive women every so often, when I was starting puberty it was basically my hobby, but there are so many closeup shots of Teegra’s ass and chest in this movie that eventually you just become bored by it. Just like actual cheesecake, it’s best enjoyed in moderation. Also, although the art itself is good, the actual animation suffers from that same slowness that afflicted Rock & Rule way back when. I assume it’s like that because they’re basing the animation on footage of actual people performing these actions (it would explain the stuntmen listed in the credits), sort of a primitive motion-capture, but just because it makes things feel a bit more realistic doesn’t mean it’s good. It still feels, as I said, slow and cumbersome, and when you have a movie where the same woman gets kidnapped five times, I don’t think you can really afford to slow down the action even more than it already is.

     I didn’t have a problem recommending Coonskin, because in spite of some very questionable design decisions, I felt that there was enough there, what it revealed about the time it which it was made, its historical context in regards to animation, its context in regards to African-Americans and African-American culture, that it was still a relevant film worthy of further discussion. Fire & Ice though? Meh, I’m just not feeling it. There are other fantasy movies out there (Bakshi even made two before this you could try instead) and other animated movies (might I suggest Kubo), so unfortunately I’m not feeling much pressure not recommending this one. Unless you’re a Frazetta junkie, which is totally understandable, this is one movie you don’t have to worry about on Halloween.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2017 - Kubo and the Two Strings (2016), directed by Travis Knight

The Trailer
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The Appropriate Tune: "Tsugaru Jongara Bushi", by Ki & Ki

     As much as I tend to lean on the sides of directors when it comes to film making, they are supposed to be the ones calling the shots after all, occasionally I will give credit where credit is due to the studios and production companies through which these films are built, financed and eventually sent off into the world. Would the genre of horror be quite the same without the influence of Hammer Films? Would James Gunn be heading Guardians of the Galaxy or Matt Stone and Trey Parker be pushing two decades worth of South Park if Troma hadn’t lent a helping hand? Introducing money into the equation is the leading cause of fucked up movies, and studio execs love that money, but money is also the only way you make movies at all, so it’s a complicated relationship. When that money is given with an open mind and willingness to explore, that’s when the magic happens.

     When it comes to animation however, a style of film making that is even more collaborative than the standard, it is the studios and production companies where the true power lies. Pixar, Studio Ghibli, Nelvana (responsible for former Marathoner Rock & Rule) Tokyo Movie Shinsa (Castle of Cagliostro and Akira) and now Laika, based out of Oregon. A relative newcomer to the film stage, they’re only about 12 years old, Laika has been slowly building up an impressive body of work since then. Kicking things off with Coraline in 2009, which was likely their biggest hit, Laika defined themselves by their incredibly detailed, masterfully shot, downright beautiful claymation work, crafting films that were fun for the whole family, but didn’t shy away from the darker subjects. In 2012 they came out with ParaNorman (another great one), and two years later The Boxtrolls, the lowest rated and yet ironically the second highest-grossing of their filmography. That may have been for the best, because it was that increased revenue that helped to give us Kubo and the Two Strings.

     In a village by the sea in what is most likely Japan, a one-eyed boy named Kubo lives in a cave overlooking those vast waters. Every morning when he wakes he takes of his mother, who is trapped in a catatonic state, and then travels down to the village in order to make money. Kubo is a master at the art of origami you see, as well as a musician, and when he plays the shamisen these creatures of folded paper literally come to life and move about. He uses these skills to tell stories, tales of the heroic samurai Hanzo and his quest for the Golden Armor, and his war against the evil Moon King. Every time he comes close to finishing this story however, the town bell rings for sundown, and Kubo runs home. Kubo can never be outside once night falls, you see, no matter what.

     What the folks in the village don’t know is that all of Kubo’s stories were true, Hanzo, the Moon King, etc., because Hanzo is Kubo’s father, and his mother one of the daughters of the Moon King. A long time ago Kubo and his mother had washed up on the village, sacrificing Hanzo’s life and one of Kubo’s eyes in order to escape the wrath of the Moon King. That escape was only temporary though, and when those divine forces finally catch up to the broken family, Kubo must go on a journey to recover the Golden Armor in order to vanquish the Moon King once and for all. Kubo, along with a talking monkey and a stag beetle samurai, isn’t just telling stories anymore: He’s living one.

     To say that this film beautiful veers on redundant, because this is a Laika movie and Laika movies always look great. Kubo is a classic Hero’s Quest type story, and the set pieces are suitably epic for the occasion. Windswept tundras, endless lakes, sweeping vistas of mountains and valleys, Kubo’s world is lush and vibrant in a way that very few animated films are able to match. The characters are animated so finely that they seem to breath and move, and it is astounding to consider just how much work Travis Knight and his team had to put in to make it look this good. Even I have to admit that one my favorite films of my childhood, the Nightmare Before Christmas, looks a bit slow in comparison. Of course claymation is like the prog rock of animation; A treat to experience but a chore to record, and the progression of technology smooths that process. ‘Smooths’ being the operative word, it’s a still a lot of work.

     I think what I like most about about Kubo though is that it’s a movie that tells a story about the importance of stories (I believe that would be considered a meta-narrative, but then I’m dumb). Kubo’s mother tells him stories which he tells the villagers, Kubo’s adventure is a story, and our memories of our loved ones who have left us are a story as well. As someone with relatives who suffer from dementia, who have lost a lot of what made them them, I guess it all hit a bit close to home for me.

     It’s a damn shame that Kubo and the Two Strings seemed to slip under the radar like it did, but you’d be doing yourself a disservice if you didn’t check it out. Whether you’re an animation fan, a parent looking for a film for their kid, or you just like shit that doesn’t seem like all the other shit you’ve seen, Kubo is the movie for you. When you’re not busy making your own stories this Halloween, give this one a try. You just might find something you really like.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2016: Akira (1988), directed by Katsuhiro Otomo

The Trailer
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The Appropriate Tune: "Kaneda", by Geinoh Yamashirogumi

     As much as Japan has been connected to animation over the years, and despite the vastly differing amounts of diversity and content that medium is given when compared to the West, that’s not to say that Japan has a peerless record on the subject. Indeed, the Land of the Rising Sun can be just as bull-headed and destructive to the creative process as any other country in the industry. Whether it’s putting the animators on a shoestring budget, thus reducing the animation quality (you’ve probably seen enough slideshow animes to know what I mean), or just outright refusing to give people credit for their work, the fact is that artistic integrity doesn’t matter half as much as getting the product on the shelves. It makes a certain degree of sense, when you’ve got a dedicated demographic that doesn’t mind shelling out 50 bucks a pop for a blu-ray, then you probably want to put out as many blu-rays as you can. It doesn’t mean that there aren’t good shows and movies being putting out, but it does mean dealing with a mountain of shovelware, and that this dedication to immediacy can hurt even a good show.

     Still, establishing a legacy through animation is entirely possible. Hayao Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli is probably the most famous example, at least when it comes to Western audiences. Shinichiro Watanabe, creator of Cowboy Bebop (the one anime everyone can agree is good), Samurai Champloo and Space Dandy. And, as you might expect from this article, mangaka and filmmaker Katsuhiro Otomo. Although his work in the field seems limited (around half of his work in film seems to be focused on screenwriting), that observation doesn’t seem to matter much when his feature-length directorial debut was 1988’s Akira, based on his 1984 manga of the same name. Akira, a movie that, like Alan Moore’s “Watchmen”, inspired legions of imitators and very few peers.. Akira, a film that managed to carve itself out a spot in Western pop culture in an era when people still called it japanimation and Dragonball Z was still a dot on the horizon. Akira, the film that took the bar set by Cronenberg and Carpenter and raised it as far as it could reach.

     Akira, it’s a movie.

     The year is 2019. 31 years ago, Tokyo was almost completely obliterated in a massive explosion. Upon its ashes Neo-Tokyo was built, yet this new city failed to live up to the reputation of the original. Rampant crime and drug abuse, crippling poverty and severe economic depression, daily protests that threaten to erupt into terrorist attacks or military oppression. Could this be it? Is this how the world ends, with civilization slowly rotting and decaying until it finally collapses in upon itself? At the very least, Japan seems destined to end with a whimper rather than a bang.

     For teenagers Kaneda and Tetsuo, worrying about how shitty the future is going to be doesn’t matter as much as living in the now. They and the other members of their gang spend their days popping pills, trying to get laid, riding around on their motorcycles and beating the hell out of other gangs. School? Finding a job? Fuck that mess man, why bother contributing to a broken system? Biker punks for life bro!

     Or so it would seem, until one night a mysterious boy who looks like an elderly man appears and somehow causes Tetsuo to crash his bike. Before Kaneda and his friends can get help, the military arrives and takes not only the boy, but Tetsuo as well. Who is this mysterious boy? Who is the mysterious girl that seems to be connected to the boy? Why does the military need this boy and Tetsuo? Kaneda is going to find out, but the answer might not be something anyone wants to hear. Because Akira, the ultimate energy, is getting ready to awaken once again. And when he does, no one is going to be safe.

     Leave it to the man with years of experience in sequential art to know how to put a movie together. Akira in motion is a beautiful thing, & Otomo has a gift for crafting scenes manage to stick themselves into your mind. The infamous ‘bike braking’ moment that’s been referenced so many times since, the battle with the military, the climax...hell, every time someone shoots a gun it ends up looking amazing. I dunno, it’s the fluidity of those action that’s most appealing I guess. The smoothness of it. It feels more natural, as if you’re seeing something real rather than animated. One of those you have to experience to understand.

     It’s also not a film that shies away from uncomfortable scenes. Lots of blood, lots of scenes where people get blown away with bullets (and a couple that are pretty much pulped) and of course the end of the film where things upgrade to full-on body horror. Of course this isn’t quite like The Fly or Tetsuo the Iron Man, where we as the audience are forced to watch a man decay in front of our eyes. It’s more like standing up after a long period of drinking or substance use and feeling the world drop out from under you. Suddenly the rules don’t exist anymore, and reality itself descends into utter chaos. Rather similar to 2001: A Space Odyssey in that respect, although I’d say Akira might take the points in the pure bizarre. Which is probably what keeps it from being a truly scary movie, unless you have a low tolerance for things like this. You spend less time being scared and more time watching to see what weird crap they come up with next.

     If you’re a gorehound, an animation fan or if you’re interested in getting into the anime scene, this is just one of those movies you need under your belt. English dub, original Japanese, Neutral Spanish dub, whatever you want to use, it’s (probably) all good. The West may not respect the field of animation as much of animation as much as we could, but we should at least love the gems that we got.

     One more left.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2016 -- Gandahar (1987), directed by Rene Laloux

The Trailer
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The Appropriate Tune: "The Robots", by Kraftwerk

     Yes, even the Europeans have animation. Some of you out there might be surprised, considering the Academy doesn’t care about animation beyond whatever Disney has crapped out that year and even less about animation outside of the U.S., but it’s true. That Tintin movie Spielberg came out with a couple years ago? Based on a Belgian comic book, which had a very popular cartoon series in the 90s. The movie Heavy Metal? Based on the sci-fi magazine Heavy Metal, which is based on the French sci-fi magazine Metal Hurlant, and featured several French artists. Wallace & Gromit? Incredibly British, as it turns out.

     As far as French animation goes, some movie fans might know the name Fantastic Planet, which was the name the English crowd gave to a French animated film released in 1973. While the actual plot of Fantastic Planet is probably lost on most audiences, the thing that sticks most in their minds is the visual design. Part Terry Gilliam picture manipulation, part Salvador Dali LSD nightmare, the film is unlike anything that you would see out of an American studio before or since. Not just because America has a bias against all things animation, but because the entire mindset around filmmaking is different. The French (to use a blatant generalization) love art, they love things to be fantastical and whimsical and surrealistic, even when it comes to their horror and their science fiction. Americans (to use another blatant generalization) love their sci-fi hard, the explosions large and a 3 to 1 ratio on violence versus sex. It’s not an issue of which one’s better than the other, it’s just how our respective cultures have progressed over the years.

     That being said, I have to say that Gandahar still isn’t all that great a movie. It looks interesting enough, beautiful even, bringing to life a world that seems to be directly inspired by such talents as Alejandro Jodorowsky and French comic artist Moebius. The story is packed to the brim with symbolism, for those that are interested in that sort of thing. Nature vs. technology, male vs. female, there’s more obvious allusions here than a 1st year film student’s term paper. The main villain looks like a giant penis for god’s sake, how much more on the nose can you get?

     All the animated boobs in the world however doesn’t change the fact that for a movie about a guy trying to save the world from an army of killer robots, not of exciting things actually happen in the movie, and even if it did, the limited animation quality would have made it seem like it was happening at a snail’s pace. It was an issue I had with Rock & Rule as well, where everything felt like it was moving in slow-motion, but it is far, far more noticeable in Gandahar. I don’t know if it’s an issue with budget or, again, it’s just a cultural preference that I’m not privy, but it almost doesn’t even seem worth doing an animated film if there’s so little you can do with it. Sure, there are scenes and effects that can only properly be done through an animated medium, but when your characters are relegated to having coy conversations with each other and behaving like animatronics, then it seems like you’ve managed to sidestep the point.

     Those of you who are super into animation, or if you like your sci-fi mostly fantasy and your fantasy mostly sci-fi, you just might find something to enjoy about Gandahar, or Light Years as its dubbed version was known. Otherwise, pretty pictures don’t make up for an ultimately boring film, and that’s why I can’t really recommend it. You’ll find more interesting films, and more cartoon breasts, in your nearest Bakshi filmography, so I suggest looking there instead.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2016 -- Rock & Rule (1983), directed by Clive A. Smith

The Trailer
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The Appropriate Tune: "Real Wild Child (Wild One)", by Iggy Pop

     The War was over.

     The only survivors were street animals: dogs, cats and rats. From them, a new race of mutants evolved.

     That was a long time ago…

     Mok, a legendary superrocker has retired to Ohmtown. His computers work at deciphering an ancient code which will unlock a gateway to another dimension.

     The only component he needs is a special voice…

     So begins Rock & Rule, the epic sci-fi/fantasy tale of a punk rock dog man trying to save his girlfriend, who I think is a cat but is mostly a sex symbol, from an evil glam rock wizard who is trying to summon a demon in order to destroy the post-apocalyptic dystopian world in which they all live through the power of rock & roll. You know, that old chestnut.

     Anyway, this was the debut film for Nelvana, a Canadian animation studio who you might know from Care Bears: The Movie and not much else filmwise, and what a debut it was amping up to be. A multi million dollar animated film that was emphatically not for children, which featured music from the badass bands of the time (in this case Debbie Harry, Lou Reed and Iggy Pop)? I mean sure, Heavy Metal, which Nelvana passed on to make this movie, had kind of already ascended into the pop culture consciousness on that ticket two years prior, but that only meant that the market was primed for that kind of material. The people loved Terminator so you give them Robocop, the people loved Indiana Jones so you give them Romancing the Stone. The people loved Heavy Metal, so you give them Rock & Rule. Recipe for success, right?

     Well, no. Rock & Rule was actually a huge failure, both critically and commercially. So much so that it almost destroyed Nelvana, who only just managed to avoid bankruptcy by taking on loads of TV work. Which is a shame, seeing a studio taking a chance and putting out something relatively unique and having it shot down. It’s the kind of thing that gets you feeling jaded about the state of filmmaking, gets you wondering why you would even want to put money into an industry that rewards derivative shit and rewards free spirits, an industry that pushes remakes, reboots and cinematic universes onto its consumers like a pushy prom date with a Mickey Finn in his hand. Makes you wonder why you would ever want even get into making films at all, if all you had to look forward to was seeing your creative vision poked and prodded into oblivion by a committee of marketing drones. Especially when people continually buy into that same derivative crap over and over again, swallowing it down because they’re apparently too ignorant to even conceive of something better. Might as well not even get out of bed in the morning, if all you have to look forward to is the same depressing spiral into the garbage dump that creative expression in this world has become.

     In the world’s defense, Rock & Rule is pretty crappy.

     Maybe that’s not quite right. Rock & Rule is an average movie, one that is outshined by its peers; Heavy Metal, the works of Ralph Bakshi, Don Bluth’s The Secret of NIMH if you want to dig deep, in most respects. Rock & Rule isn’t as dark, it isn’t as sexy (more important that you would think on the internet), it isn’t as funny, the characters aren’t as interesting or likable, the soundtrack isn’t as good and the animation feels slower and less fluid. Which doesn’t make it outright bad, in fact it’s probably even with Ralph Bakshi’s American Pop to me, which was another animated film that heavily featured music from around that same year, but it’s not all that exceptional either. Aside from some of the background art, which actually does look quite impressive, there’s nothing about Rock & Rule that really stirs the viewer to any reaction beyond ‘yeah, it was fine’. For a movie called Rock & Rule, there’s far less rocking than you’d expect. Not much ruling either, to be honest.

     If you’re a big animation fan, as I am, then you might be interested in Rock & Rule as a piece of movie history that doesn't have a Disney logo stamped on it. If you’re interested in Heavy Metal and you’re looking for some twisted cartoons to scratch that itch, then you might be interested in Rock & Rule. If neither of those things apply to you though, then you might be able to give this one a pass. And if someone offers you a glowing ball of pink light, just say no. It’s just not worth it.

Coonskin (1975), directed by Ralph Bakshi

Moving away from hyper-violent kung-fu, movies, we're dipping into the crazy world of independent cartoons. Strap yourselves into your metaphorical chairs ladies and non-ladies.

Trailer
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Appropriate Tune: "Ghost Riders In The Sky", by Scatman Crothers

     Beginning an entry is always the hardest part of the whole thing. At first, I had hoped that over time the process of writing would become easier, words and ideas would flow much more readily, or at least smoothly. It hasn’t, I guess because in the end I’m never not going to think of myself as a useless fucking loser, so every time I see a completed entry all I’ll see is stunted, ugly horseshit. It was bad enough to chase away my few Russian readers, even though I was so happy to find out that citizens of a country I was so fascinated by were reading my puny, stupid blog. I’ve already been told that I’m expecting too much too quickly, and I admit that I am, but it’s little consolation to a man who needs to know someone gives a damn about whether he’s alive or dead. Yeah, it’s fucking stupid, who would have ever guessed?

     I have a great deal of respect for Ralph Bakshi taking animation and treating it as legitimate method of serious filmmaking, rather than the standard Disney spectacle. Despite that respect, I can’t say I’ve had a great track record with his films that I’ve seen. Fritz the Cat, the first animated movie to get an X-rating, looks great for an independent film and sounds it like it should be good but my interest in watching it always peters out around 25 minutes. American Pop is likewise an interesting premise, one that I actually got hyped for reading the little blurb that comes on internet videos nowadays, not to mention an impressive design, but overall I was disappointed in how the music was used and how it was presented in the movie (how Bob Seeger, a man whose creative peak was in the 1970s, the voice of the 1980s is beyond me). I also own The Lord of the Rings on VHS, Bakshi’s interpretation of the Tolkien fantasy epic, but I don’t really remember anything about it. I think there were dwarves and wizards in it, but don’t take my word for it.

     So with that sterling run of “interesting premise, interesting animation, poor execution”, the next logical step would obviously be to watch yet another Bakshi movie? I’ve heard good things about the post-Fritz movies he put out in the mid 70s, so I decided to bite the bullet and go for it. This time around, it’s Coonskin, released in 1975 and Bakshi’s third ever feature-length film. And we ain’t talking about raccoons or Daniel Boone this time around kiddies.

     How do I fucking write this entry? The story begins as all stories do I guess, which is vaguely. Randy (Philip Thomas), a young black man, has been imprisoned for a charge we never learn, but presumably has something to do with the melanin content of his skin. Randy, along with fellow inmate/escapee Pappy (Scat Man Crothers), manage to sneak out to the outside wall of the prison, just close enough that the guards are unable to see them as they make their rounds. The plan is to wait until night as the guards are asleep, when Randy’s friends Samson (motherfucking Barry White y’all) and the Preacher (Charles Gordone) drive up to the prison at top speed in a bad ass car, Randy and Pappy climb in, and they’re home free. When Samson and the Preacher get held up by a roadblock and take much longer than the plan called for, Randy begins to get anxious, he’s focused on getting out of prison so much that he’s ready to just run for it, which would surely mean his death to the high-powered weaponry of the guards. To distract the agitated youth from the absence of his friends, Pappy decides to tell a story of three friends, much like Randy, Samson, and the Preacher. Their names: Brother Rabbit, Brother Bear, and Preacher Fox.

     In terms of framing devices, Coonskin’s is passable if a bit vague, but the main selling point of the film is the animated portion. The story of Brother Rabbit, Brother Bear and Preacher Fox, a rags-to-riches style tale in the organized crime racket of hrlem, is done in traditional hand-drawn animation overlaid over live footage and still photography. A weird effect, probably one of the only times I’ll ever connect a movie to Pete’s Dragon, but it’s done in a way that actually gives a sense of reality to a story about anthropomorphic animals killing cops. Which seems to be a regular theme in Bakshi movies, utilizing the relative freedom of animation to show and create bizarre situations, while still keeping a sense of realism when it comes to characters and character interactions. It does get weird at times, as his films tend to do, but all the breaks seem to be either as perhaps a literal example of Pappy’s aggrandized storytelling or to illustrate Bakshi’s grander message for this film. Even when it gets weird or ‘cartoony’ though, they feel as if they have lives and goals outside of what we see in the film. Which is usual the sign of well-written characters, or at least it is to some dumb asshole like me.

     I mentioned that when referring to the title Coonskin that I wasn’t referring to raccoons or Daniel Boone, and I meant it. This might be the most openly provocative movie that I have seen in a while, and I have a fondness for Troma films, which strives to place naked breasts in every movie they make or distribute. The film hits you with it right at the start, with Scat Man Crothers, voice of the lovable characters such as Hong Kong Phooey and the Autobot Jazz, singing a song called “Ah’m a Nigger Man”. A song written by Ralph Bakshi himself, who is very much not black or African at all. Perhaps it’s because I am product of the tail-end of the 20th century, and so for me such direct racial imagery has been relegated to the horrible jokes of the distinctly southern minded people I have known in my life and the comments of any and all youtube video comments, that I was more affected by it than the audience in 1975 might have been. Scat Man puts on a fine performance though, so it’s all good.

     Coonskin is also the source for some of the most offensive visual caricatures of african-americans since the days of the minstrel show. Even though most of the of film’s characters are pretty offensive to look at, some downright gruesome (homosexuals and transvestites get it bad), none of those others tend to be as grossly stereotypical as those portraying black people. And in this case they really are black people, pitch black spindly fuckers with giant red lips, looking like someone decided to dip the Slenderman in tar or some shit. Occasionally they’re represented by animals, in the case of our protagonists, and the women look like someone glued a megaphone to their face. In general, utterly alien to what we think a human should look like, which is actually what I think Bakshi’s intention might have been all along. That there was still a great divide in the perceptions of black culture around that time, those past remnants of minstrel shows and lynchings and monkey jokes, that blacks and whites had to view themselves as wholly different and foreign to each other. I wouldn’t say that this is a film that celebrates the ‘black experience’ either, as it doesn’t try to glorify the crippling despair, poverty and racism that was/is present in Harlem and the South at the time, instead showing folks just surviving, through their wits or friendship or what have you. Which makes it more representative of the ‘black experience’ then whoever the fuck does that in their films, I suppose. Tyler Perry, maybe.

     There’s a sort of running gag in the movie where a disheveled, tiny black man is attempting to get with Miss America, a blond-haired, big breasted white woman dressed completely in red, white and blue, only to be tricked and brutally rebuffed every time. The intent of the scene is pretty on the nose, but I think the power of it lies in the fact that you see it happen, and it you get that visceral physical reaction to it happening. I think it’s the power of animation that allows us convey these messages in ways that can be be more direct, and yet because of the inherent expressionism of the genre doesn’t lose any of its artistic merit. It works for me, essentially, and if a film works for you then it has succeeded as a film.

     If you ever wanted to see the sleek, 70’s response to Song of the South, then you’ve stopped at the right place. If you’re interested in non-Disney Western animation, Ralph Bakshi is going to be the second name you’re likely going to hear after Don Bluth, this is going to be one of his works that you’re going to directed towards. It’s more than something colorful to look at, and it lends itself to analysis and introspection, so give it a watch if you like to do that sort of stuff. Then watch Mighty Mouse, because who doesn’t love Mighty Mouse?

     Nobody. I just answered my own question there. Nobody.

Result: Recommended